Who am I?

I am a broken figourine on a fireplace mantle
I am a plate smashed against the wall
I am a book torn into pieces
I am a wine glass dropped on the floor
I am a shot glass waiting to be filled

I am a lone wolf without the pack
I am a sheep without the flock
I am a fish without the school

What am I doing?
Who Am I really?

I am glue to put together the pieces
I am the tape to fix the torn pages
I am the bartender that fills your glass

I may be a lone wolf but I pack a bite
I am a sheep with his shepard, no flock needed
I am a fish ready for adventure in the open water

I am who I am
To this world
Here I come

Hard to take

I was known as a stone
A rock of faith
taking in the word of life
drinking the water of God

I still thrist
I am still hard as a rock
No rational reason will chip away at me
Nothing I know can soften me

My faith is drifting
In river of uncertainty
White water pushes me around
Rolls me over ad over

Still working . . . .

Blinded Path

Darkeness of a shattered heart
Trembles with thoughts of love
Droops with thoughts Her

Where is the ghost of my reality
Haunting me as I sleep
Breathing over me

It is His eyes watching over me
Like a lion over their cubs
Molding my heart together

Comforting while I sleep
Warming me with His breathe
Holding me while I drift away

Flower

Oh sweet flower of the spring
I have captured you on film
Everyday since I first laid eyes on you
Golden in color and freshly excited to bloom

I found comfort in your scent
A smirk presents more pedals of beauty
Even the days of being bent
As the clouds roll in
You bloom to take in a new breathe

As the redundant reds and oranges

fade to darkness
To where you find your wild ways
The sweetness of spring fades away
With your golden yellows still intact

No more smirks of exposed innocence
Faded away over the season's days
Dormit until the next bloom of His face

Lines of Identity

Shallow lines
Carved in my hands
Like paths of rough terrain
Curved, cut, spiraled
Throughout my palm
Mapped like a river
Cutting through a mountain
Making turns and breaking
Developing a trail

Lines defined
And ceased
Like a minute hand fading time
Away canyon
Created jagged
And white-water rush wrenching
Creating a landmark
Of lines that define who I am.

Maiden Voyage

She was a fine ship, built out of the best cedar and oak we could find in our homeland. It took months the get her built the from the helm to the bulkhead, shaped and ready to support the main Mast. We bend the flexible cedar to the right form. We nail it down the planks and finely tune the strake. We look over the keel for approval and put the mast in.

She was a fine boat, constructed with the best hands around these parts. Now, ready to break the seal of the water after the epoxy dries. We set sail tomorrow and let her settle in place in the bay. Everytime I look at her she makes my blood boil and my heart race with anticipation. She will be a wild one as we made her Kell fine and fast. She will enjoy the wild water of the oceans. I will enjoy the ride with the wind against my leather skin and wiskers. My toes curl-up as I sleep and blood rushes through my arteries like a wild river.

The months spent getting to know her every nook and cranny, Making sure the hands that touch her were clean and precise. Now, I get to stir her into a world of no limits of blue water surrounding us.

At first light I awake and run to the main helm to touch the helm's perfectly carved face with steel molding the inside rim. The main gribs glide softly in my hands as if she knew I was touching her. Scrabbbling together, the crew finally got aboard and prepared for her maiden voyage. We check all the sails and rutter movement.

We shovel off to the main opening of the bay. As I get closer and closer to the breaking the seal of the boat into the main water, my excitement level exculates like a kettle about ready to whistle. I rise with excitement and keep a look out from left to right.

My men ready to burst forward to capture the wind. These sailors have never been out in the open before. As the land creeps away from our vision showing us we are out on open water, a roar comes over the men as we hit a realm of enjoyment. Housting our sails, we push forward harder and harder to capture every moment of wind. The boat feels comfortable and moves smoothly over each bump and my nerves drop with relaxation. The helm feels smooth and comfortable.

Now on to greater adventures.

Wanderer

I am stuck in a dissolution of reality
Fog is rolling into my brain
rusts away all which has been created
The walls in my head
are being desecrated to nothing but dust
and particles
brain waves are bleak and
non-existent
as I take each unconscious step
towards a new idealistic reality
a mind wondering in smiles
shortly realizes they dissipate into the air
like mist burned up by the sun.

Ready for the Long Road Home

The slivers of my heart gradually slip away day by day
each a bigger piece than the last
making the pulse of life harder to maintain
Anguish fills my chest cavity
making each muscle strain
and gasp for a breathe

clinching my bossom
reaching out for help
to the dark silhouettes
and white wings

I shut my eyes
and slip away
ready
for


life
to begin
as the light
takes me back
carried by white wings
I resurrect and stitched together
breathing freely with no pain

I ams what I ams

The world turns at my speed and no quicker. Each person sees their life at their own pace and those pushing for the extreme have no time to smell the flowers but to just fly by to see them. It takes all kinds to make a project work or a business be a success. Even making yourself a success, it takes time. It takes friends, enemies, mistakes, failures and other issues only to learn and to move forward to success. However, success never comes from quiting. It comes from resolution and moving forward. If you quit something then how do you not know how it can all turn out. The failure leading to another idea could be your greatest success if you see hope in any of it. Just a small bit of hope and faith in it could be the idea that makes you a millionaire. It could lead to the idea that makes you succeed. What if you just gave up? What if you never tried another way to resolve the issue? Then you may have never known the success of the idea or even the progression of moving to a new idea or new method. If problems were solved all in one step then life would not be so complicated. Relationships would be abundant and people would be happier. It is those willing to take those steps, even towards failure, to find a true success.

It is like a small business moving forward to the extreme and all they can do is push forward as collectors call and accounts start to close. The people driving it never gave up and never let anyone tell them they could not do it. It is this that makes a person, business, life, events and other things in our life worth move forward with and worth striving for. It is shear belief one day we will find the right recipe to mix together to make it really start flowing. Those that fail realize what they did wrong but find another method to get through the day or branch off to improve what they started but they never give up. They never quit!

The Underbelly

Chills roll down the branches of bare silver maple trees gathered together with the reflecting sun light off the white snow from the ground. No birds or animals take cover in the dissapearing foliage. The trees are all alone on the horizon. The sun gently pushes through the branches to melt any existing ice on the branches but the breeze still holds the temperature down and it melts, it drips and drips. . . . . . . . . .

Guidance on Wings

I seek the albatross that flys off the shores. Its wings expand across two fathoms if not more. Its grace lets it glide through the brisk cold South Atlantic seas looking for miles for which I can't see. Amongst the clouds flying in and out, the albatross brings hope of a way out. As my men grow weary, I still look to the albatross. It knows the path of salvation for us all from this retched vessel for us to be. I give up the helm for rest and tell my colleague to follow. As I sleep I hear a shout for joy, is it land!? Are we there!? As I come from the bow I look around to see a man with a crossbow and no albatross do I see. The men are dragging something out of the sea. I run to the side to see the blessed albatross hooked and floating in the sea. My hope is gone and this vessel is dead for there is no site of land and food for my blessed men to be. Little did they know they killed the guide of my vessel and the direction of hope for me. As days move on many men have been dumped in fear of disease. Little did they know they could have avoided this if the albatross was still here and guiding me. Each man lay down and fall into eternal sleep, I fight to find my blessed albatross. I will not give up my life because someone was hungry. I stir and stir into the sea. Low and behold it is a swarm of albatross in the distance and it is just me. I do what I can to get to land but by now I am gone. Once I get a shore then people will talk that this man found the albatross and fought to get home but it was too late. He is gone with the albatross amongst clouds and the sea.


I hope this is not too close to the reign of the ancient mariner.